


How About You Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is?

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, are stuck in the flirty teasing stage, kind of pre-slashy sterek where neither of them will admit that they like each other, what tools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well I bet I could you hold you up on my own even without any water.”</p><p> </p><p>Scott’s eyes were darting back and forth between the pair, double taking at Stiles at his challenge. His mouth fell open, ready to say something but Derek’s snort cut him off. “I’ll be surprised if you can manage 15 minutes.” The werewolf replied snidely. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got $50 that says otherwise, asshole.” Stiles shot back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How About You Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is?

**Author's Note:**

> This silly fic was born out of my desire to see Stiles holding Derek in a princess hold.

It was the  _look_  that Scott and Derek exchanged that really cooked his goose,  _not_ the disbelieving snort Derek let out or the indulgent look Scott gave him.

 

“Oh come  _on_!” Stiles griped, glaring at the pair with equal intensity.  


“Well it’s not like you’ve proven it, you know?” Scott points out unhelpfully, earning himself an extra five seconds of Stiles’ angry glare.   


Pointing his finger, “How is it  _my_  fault that you guys always run in showing off your werewolfitude before I can even  _think_ to use my muscles?” Stiles shot back, ignoring the bemused look that passed over Derek’s face before he mumbled ‘werewolfitude?’ to Scott (who brushed it off with a casual wave).  


Derek shook his head before he spoke, “Even then, I doubt you’re strong enough.”  


“Oh yeah?” Stiles challenged. “Who was the one who kept your paralyzed ass afloat for 2 hours on his own? Me, that’s who!”  


Another snort. “In  _water_. It’s completely different.”  


“Well I bet I could you hold you up on my own even without any water.”  


Scott’s eyes were darting back and forth between the pair, double taking at Stiles at his challenge. His mouth fell open, ready to say something but Derek’s snort cut him off. “I’ll be surprised if you can manage 15  _minutes_.” The werewolf replied snidely.   


“I’ve got $50 that says otherwise,  _asshole_.” Stiles shot back.  


“Challenge presented.” Scott immediately interjected, miming holding a mic up in front of Derek, giving him an eager grin.  


Derek gave Scott a quick 'what the Hell are you doing?’ look before glaring back at Stiles. In a blink the man pulled his wallet out and slapped some money on the table. “Challenge accepted!” Scott crowed, turning the mic towards Stiles.  


Who gave Scott a half amused look before putting his own money on the table. “Stop that.” Derek bit out, crossing his arms across his chest while Stiles pushed his plaid shirt off and took a step forward. “How do you wanna do this?”  


Scott quickly counted the money and tucked it away into his pocket, declaring himself the unofficial referee while Stiles and Derek figured out how the holding was going to happen. Which was apparently a bridal carry.   


The young Alpha pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, pulling up the Timer program. “Okay!” he declared, finger hovering over the 'Start’ button, “Any time you’re ready.”  


Stiles eyed the glaring werewolf in front of him before ducking down to sweep him up in his arms. If Scott was entirely honest, he was kind of expecting Stiles to not even manage picking Derek up. Not that he didn’t believe that Stiles didn’t have some strength to him! Far from! It was just that Derek was all muscles. The man probably had a good 50 odd pounds on Stiles!  


But still, Stiles had managed to make the move look almost effortless. Scott said almost because Stiles immediately fidgeted and muttered, “God, you’re heavy! What the hell do you eat? You need to lay off the treats.”  


Barely 15 seconds in and the dog jokes were already coming out. If that wasn’t a sign that things were going to go to shit  _soon_ , Scott didn’t know what was. Derek glared at Stiles, arms still crossed stubbornly across his chest. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to say stuff like that when I'm  _this close_  to your throat?”  


Stiles rolled his eyes, “What’re you gonna do? Rip my throat out with your teeth? Sorry to tell you this dude but that threat's  _so_ last year. Plus, if you haven't done it yet, you're probably never gonna do it.”  


“How about I rip your tongue out?”  


“One, you’ve been spending too much time with Cora. And two, with what? Your teeth? Could you be more unoriginal?”  


Scott gave the glaring idiots a dry look of his own. “Can you guys go  _a minute_  without arguing?” He didn’t even blink when the glares were directed his way instead. “Guess not.” Scott grumbled, eyes down on the numbers counting back from 15 minutes. Just another 13 minutes to go.  


There was another round of fidgeting from Stiles before he grunted and hefted Derek a little higher in his arms, the veins in his forearm beginning to show under the strain. “Almost 11 minutes to go.” Scott offered, quickly taking in the sweat that was beginning to dot Stiles’ forehead.  


“ _Seriously_ , dude,” Stiles grumbled, eyes roaming over Derek’s figure. “ _What_ do you eat? Or how much muscles do you have? You’re seriously heavy! Is it some all protein diet or something? Do you go out and hunt your own deer, skin it, cut it up into meal packets that you stash in your fridge and have three times a day with a OJ in the morning and beer for lunch and dinner?”  


Even Scott found it a little hard to process the word vomit that had resulted out of stress. Derek stared in confusion up at Stiles before answering, “I really don’t understand what goes on inside that head of yours.”  


“Is that a yes?” Stiles retorted, making a face as he readjusted his grip with an increasingly flushed face. Clearly the strain was getting to him. And there were still another eight odd minutes to go. Scott didn’t think that Stiles was going to make it but Stiles  _did_ have a stubborn streak a mile wide so maybe…  


“Half way.” Scott announced, keeping an eye behind Stiles to make sure that his friend wasn’t cheating by leaning on the table. One well placed glare was enough for Stiles to take a shaky step forward and away from the dinner table.  


Derek was starting to go from bored and disinterested to vaguely interested and considering. And Stiles had noticed this. “What?” The teenager asked waspishly.  


The werewolf shrugged, not making it easier or harder for Stiles to go through with the bet. “Nothing.”  


“Oh no.” Stiles glared harder at Derek, “That is not a nothing face. That’s a something face. Spill it before I dump your ass.”  


With a dry look, Derek replied, “And lose the bet? You wouldn’t dare.”  


“Try me.”  


There was a long moment of silence before Derek rolled his eyes in a highly put upon manner. “I’m just surprised that you’ve managed to hold me up for this long.”   


Stiles all but preened at the werewolf’s words. “Told you I had it in me.”  


“Yeah, you really have something in you alright.” Derek mumbled under his breath. Scott pressed his lips together, his chuckle coming out in a quick huff of air that made Stiles eye him suspiciously.  


“Last four minutes!” Scott declared, wondering if Stiles was going to make it not. His arms were visibly trembling, fat sweatdrops rolling down his face and neck. It was clear to see that Stiles was nearing his limit. But would he manage to hang on?  


And speaking of hanging on! Scott blinked in surprise at Derek, who was slipping his arms around Stiles’ shoulders! Stiles was similarly taken aback to find his face in such close proximity with Derek’s. “Wuh?” He asked intelligently, mouth hanging open in shock.  


Derek stared at Stiles and deliberately, because it  _had_ to be deliberate!, swept his gaze down at the parted lips before slowly dragging his eyes back up to meet Stiles’. “Yes Stiles?” Scott’s eyes widened to a comical degree at Derek’s husky tone. What was he…  


The pole axed look on Stiles’ face would have been comical at any other time. “You… What are you doing?” Stiles squeaked, jumping when Derek’s fingers slipped behind his neck to stroke and knead the flesh there.   


“Nothing.” Derek replied in the same low voice. Scott wasn’t sure why  _he_ was blushing when it was Stiles who was getting the full force of Derek’s smoulder and almost smirk.  


Stiles’ face was now a splotchy red that had spread down his neck and under his shirt. He looked ready to bolt at the same speed as a skittish horse that was watching a cowboy walk up to it with a hot brand in hand.  


There was a long moment where Scott thought that Stiles was going to say something back - a scathing remark or Stiles usual dose of sarcasm - anything that would turn the tables.   


With less than two minutes to go, Derek’s second hand slid down to rub against Stiles’ clavicle, making the teenager’s entire body twitch as he all but yelped, “Nope!” Stiles dropped Derek like a hot potato and dashed away going, “I hate you!”  


As he ran by Scott, the werewolf caught Stiles’ scent - nerves, effort and… oh  _God._ “Really, Stiles?!” Scott moaned, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he tried to flap away the scent of Stiles’ arousal. Stiles’ only answer was a garbled yell before he closed the door behind him.  


Scott eyed the door, looked down at the timer that was counting down the last 50 seconds and then at Derek who was grinning smugly up at no one in particular. “You’re an asshole.” Scott declared, turning the clock off before he pulled the money out and held it out for Derek to accept.  


He waited until Derek had reached out before grinning evilly, “Which makes you kind of perfect for Stiles actually.” Scott may or may not have taken a vicious kind of glee at the choked noise Derek made at being caught off guard.


End file.
